Over the last few weeks Izzy had been getting to know them all, along with their wives, who, it turned out, were all time-travelers like herself. They were her new friends. Her new family.
Izzy took a deep breath, her fingers lightly tracing the intricate designs of the tartan cloth draped over her arm. It was blue and green, the colors of Magnus’s clan, and was to be used in the handfasting ceremony.
Taking a deep breath, Izzy nodded. Emeric offered his arm, and she took it with a grateful smile. The crowd parted as they began their slow procession down the aisle. A hush fell over the courtyard, broken only by the soft strumming of a lute and the rustle of the wind.
Izzy’s eyes focused on Magnus standing at the end of the aisle like a beacon. His gaze was locked with hers, a look of such pure love in his eyes that it brought tears to her own. She blinked them away, not wanting anything to blur her view of this moment.
Reaching the altar, Emeric gently released Izzy’s arm and gave her a reassuring pat on the hand before stepping back. Magnus reached out for her hand, pulling her gently towards him. his fingers warm and firm against hers.
The lute grew silent, and the courtyard seemed to hold its breath as Irene MacAskill stepped forward. In her hands she held a length of braided cord, the same colors as the tartan draped over Izzy’s arm.
“Who comes before this gathering?” she asked, her voice carrying across the courtyard.
“Isabelle Ross does,” Emeric replied, his voice ringing out confidently.
“And who stands to claim her?” Irene continued, turning her gaze to Magnus.
“I do,” Magnus responded, his deep voice filled with certainty. His hand tightened around Izzy’s.
Irene nodded approvingly and then turned back to the crowd. “Then we shall proceed with the handfasting.”
She instructed Magnus and Izzy to hold out their joined hands and she began to wrap the tartan and braided cord around them, weaving it over and under their wrists in an intricate pattern that was as old as time itself
“Ye are bound once...” Irene began, her voice low and resonant. She looped the cord again. “Ye are bound twice...” Another loop. “And thrice ye are bound.”
Her fingers danced nimbly over their hands, tugging the cord tight and binding the Kerr tartan around their wrists. Then Irene stepped back, her eyes gleaming with a quiet satisfaction as she looked at their bound hands.
“By the power of the earth beneath us, the sky above us, and the love between us, I now pronounce ye man and wife,” she declared. Her voice rang out across the courtyard, bouncing off the stone walls and echoing in the silence that followed.
Applause erupted around them as Magnus pulled Izzy into his arms, his lips finding hers in a deep kiss. The members of the Order of the Osprey raised their swords high into the air, a gleaming salute to their brother and his bride, whilst the guests burst into a cacophony of whooping and cheering.
The lute player began playing a lively tune and people started moving about, pulling tables laden with food and drink from the edges of the courtyard towards the center.
Magnus led Izzy by their bound hands to the head table, where a feast had been laid out. Platters were piled high with roasted meats, fresh fruits and crusty bread. Pitchers of ale were passed around along with flagons of mead, the sweet honeyed drink flowing freely.
As the celebrations unfolded—the dancing, the singing, the laughing, the trying unsuccessfully to chase Snaffles away from the food, that sense of peace Izzy had felt earlier returned. This was her life now—a part of a clan, a member of an Order, a wife to a man she loved more than she could have ever imagined.
Beside her Magnus leaned close. “What say we find a little privacy? I have a hankering to be alone with my wife.”
“Then your wife would say about bloody time.”
She placed her hand in his, and he led her away from the table amidst roars of approval from their friends. He guided her up a winding stone staircase that led to their chamber, their laughter echoing through the castle halls behind them.
Their room was bathed in warm candlelight, casting long flickering shadows on the stone walls and wooden beams. It was, Izzy had learned, one of the largest and most opulent in Dun Saith and was a gift to Magnus from his commander for all his years of loyal service. Now they were staying, she would soon get to work on making it their own.
As they stepped through the door, Magnus released Izzy’s hand and laid a soft kiss to her forehead before pulling back slightlyto look into her eyes.
“Are ye happy, love?”
“More than I could ever have imagined.”
A slow smile stretched across his face at that. “As am I,” he murmured, lowering his lips to hers in a tender kiss that had Izzy’s heart fluttering.
Wrapping his arms around her waist, he lifted her effortlessly, carrying her to their bed where he laid her down. He hovered above her for a moment, drinking in the sight of her under the flickering candlelight. Then his fingers traced over the delicate lace of her dress and carefully began to unlace it, revealing her to him slowly. His touch was gentle yet firm, confident yet reverent.
“Ye are a vision, Isabelle,” he whispered, his voice rough. “My wife.”
My wife.Oh, how she loved hearing that.
